


foreigner's god

by survivingthejungle



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anglo-Irish Relations, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, Irish Language, Multi, That counts right?, and it seem to be flopping!, anyways this is it i guess, i can't decide if it's too cliche or not, i got you!, i posted this on tumblr too, if ur irish... this one's for you baby, if you dont know gaelige or you don't know how to pronounce irish words, it might not happen, makes me very sad emoji, speaking of!, sure it does., us celtic girls gotta stick together., we'll see if i actually make the ubbe x oc and sigurd x oc a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-07-23 08:09:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivingthejungle/pseuds/survivingthejungle
Summary: ivar meets the youngest princess while she's on a diplomatic mission with her sisters.hvitserk meets the second youngest when he goes with ivar to find the first, years later.(aka; not sure how to summarize this concisely. celtic princesses x vikings, pretty much. it gets dramatic real quick. buckle up babies)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for my friends who don't know:  
> eoghan = owen  
> niamh = neeve  
> labhraín = loren  
> liusaidh = lucy  
> inis = (inish) old irish gaeilge for ireland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wains: how we refer to children/teenagers

At the crack of dawn, four young girls wake themselves up and sneak out of their room, through twisting, winding corridors, and out to the stables to ride off to the forest for a morning adventure. The two twins, Brigid and Niamh— Brigid was the eldest of the two, and would never let the other forget it— had bright blonde hair that shone as yellow as the midday sun. Their skin was soft and white due to the lack of sun in their homeland, and they had nearly identical pairs of light blue eyes. Brigid’s nose was more pronounced, her mouth a bit narrower, and her eyebrows a shade or two lighter than Niamh’s; they were not identical to those who knew them, but many people often could not tell them apart. The other two with them were Labhraín and Liusaidh, the youngest children in the mac Neíll family. Labhraín, unlike her sisters, had curly brown hair instead of her sisters’ pin-straight locks. Her nose was similar to Niamh’s as it was small and undefined- Morrigan always called it 'soft'-, and she had a wide mouth that presented the sweetest dimples when she smiled. Liusaidh was the youngest and, apart from her brother, looked the least similar to the rest of her siblings. She had long, straight, dark brown hair and dark brows to match. She had brown eyes that looked like honey in the rare sunlight of Inis, and her nose was bigger than all of her other sisters’; though It was perfectly rounded. She had the fullest lips compared to any of them, and was almost always smiling and displaying her pearl-white teeth. She had a small chin and round face, but they were proportionate to her features.

The two mac Neíll children who had not accompanied their sisters were Eoghan and Caridwen. Eoghan, the eldest of the six children, was also the only boy in the family. This made him the sole heir to the High King of Tara, Aéd— their father. Eoghan had dark brown curly hair all atop his head that matched his eyes and eyebrows. His brows were thick and always appeared to be well-groomed. His eyes were big and dark, and often carried bags underneath them. Eoghan was no stranger to sleepless nights as the future ruler of a large kingdom. He had a wide mouth like Liusaidh, Niamh, and Labhraín, but his own lips were not as full as theirs. He did, however, share the same dimples that Labhraín had. His chin was larger than theirs but segued well into the rest of his face, which was home to prominent cheekbones and a strong jaw.

The sun had not yet peaked over the horizon when the four girls left, but was already beginning to light up their world. The fog in the open meadows and fields was highlighted by the sun’s rays and the morning dewdrops on the grass lightly stuck to the hem of their dresses. The group of horses and the girls that accompanied them were headed to the forest at the edge of the cliff, where they often spent their mornings watching the sun rise and climbing the trees until they were expected to begin their daily lives inside of the castle.

Liusaidh was the first to begin climbing, which was not at all unusual to them. Though she was the youngest of the family, she was the fastest and often won their lighthearted races. She had made it nearly as high as she could go by the time the rest of her sisters had gotten halfway. Looking out at the terrain all around her, she was shocked when she saw what looked like a boat all the way at the end of a horizon. "Labhraín! Look, look!" she yelled down, as Labhraín was the nearest to the top.

"What, Liusaidh?" She called back, now even more eager to reach the top. "Can you see something?"

"It's a boat! Look! A boat! I think it's Vikings!" Liusaidh responded anxiously. She'd never met, or even seen, a Viking before; but she had heard plenty of stories about them from her brother, Eoghan. He used to tell his sisters stories before bedtime, and the girls' favorite kinds were scary stories about the big, bad Vikings who lived far away in Norway. Eoghan had never met a Viking, either, but he knew that everyone was scared of them; it made for easier storytelling. Brigid exclaimed her disbelief that Liusaidh had, in fact, seen a Viking boat.

"Catch yourself on! There are no Vikings in Inis, especially not this close to Tara; don't be silly, Liusaidh!" Brigid loved her brother's Viking tales as much as the rest, but she always firmly believed that there was no reason to fear ever meeting one face-to-face. 'Father would never let the Vikings get close to us. He'd send out hundreds and hundreds of fleets before they could reach the shore,' she'd tell her sisters when they got scared.

"Where is it, Liusaidh?" Labhraín asked once she'd reached her sister. Liusaidh was squinting her eyes and caning her neck out. Labhraín looked in the same direction and couldn't see anything; she told her sister as much.

"It was there! I swear I saw it." She sighed, dejected.

"Told you there were no Vikings, Lius." Brigid and Niamh finally reached their younger sisters, slightly panting from the climb. "Stop telling stories."

Liusaidh was upset at that. "I am not, Brigid! I saw it, I really did!"

"I believe you, Lius," Labhraín admitted. "Sometimes I have dreams of Viking boats all on the coast, and that we don't have enough soldiers to send them off, and they conquer the whole island."

"But that's just a dream, Labhraín," Niamh noted. The four of them found comfortable branches to sit down on as they let their legs swing underneath them. "Dreams aren't real."

"Not so! Morrigan said that dreams are the doorway to the faeries' land, and that they always give us prophecies-"

"Morrigan's a _pagan_ , Labhr. You can't believe what she says." Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a look with one another at this statement. Morrigan had been the nanny to all the mac Neíll children, even Eoghan. She was one of the few remaining pagan Celts in Tara, and though the girls were all Celtic Christians, she was beloved by all of them. Lius and Labhr were especially fond of her, because she always told them stories about the faeries, and the Tuatha Dé Danann, and the Celtic pantheon. While the two youngest girls were, of course, devout to the Christian God, they also believed deeply in the fair folk. It was why the youngest mac Neíll girls were always so apt to go to the forest; they loved to search for the magical beings.

"Let them pretend, Niamh," Brigid chastised her twin. "They're only wains. Didn't you ever believe in the fair folk?"

"Niamh is such a bore, she never believes in the fun things!" Liusaidh laughed.

"She'll probably become an Abbess and never get married." The sister in question rolled her eyes at this, but the other three all had a good laugh.

"You're all so horrible," Niamh grumbled. "I'm going back to the castle before I get in trouble, like the rest of you lot surely will." She swung her legs over the side of a branch and swiftly dropped from branch to branch until she had reached the forest floor and could reach her horse to return home. She was off before the rest of them could say a word.

"Lius, Labhraín; we must go apologize to her. We have been particularly wretched this morning," Brigid conceded. Her younger sisters solemnly agreed and soon enough the three of them had also swung down to the forest floor, ready to take off on their horses and head back to the castle for family breakfast.

-

"You wee wains are going to make your mother sick with worry if she sees you like this!" Morrigan exclaimed, upon seeing the twins and the youngest girls. They'd returned home as absolute wrecks- feet covered in dirt and grass, the bottoms of their dresses covered in grass stains, scrapes from the branches on their arms and legs, and pine needles and small leaves stuck in their wild and unkempt hair. "I'd best lock you all up each night so you can't get to your stables before sunrise. Wee devils, so you are," she muttered, grabbing a handful of maids to help her fix the young princesses up properly. They'd been promptly ushered back to their room upon their return, and scolded by Morrigan (as was a part of their usual morning tradition). "Or maybe I'll send you lot off to the Wasteland and leave you there!" she considered, while picking through the girls' hair to rid them of the pine needles and leaves. She then instructed the maids to brush their hair out smooth while she retrieved their day clothes.

"No! Morrigan, we are so _terribly_ sorry. We didn't mean to get this messy." Liusaidh was desperately trying to save her and her sisters hides in the face of such a dangerous threat. Morrigan hummed in amusement.

"Is that so?"

"Really, Morrigan, honest," Labhraín swore. "We'll be more careful next time. We're sorry."

"So are we; We really didn't realize it," the twins added.

Soon enough, the girls were decently cleaned up and properly dressed, and they were all sent down to breakfast with their parents, eldest sister, Caridwen, and eldest brother, Eoghan. "Ah; good morning, my girls!" King Aéd greeted them cheerfully. "Eat your breakfast, we have something to tell you all afterwards."

"Good morning, father." They each greeted him with a kiss on the cheek; then their mother.

"And where have you little sprites been all morning?" Caridwen asked, winking at them. She knew, of course; she was the one who'd began the tradition of tree-climbing in the morning, back when the twins were little. Eoghan had sometimes joined them, when he was seven and Caridwen was six; before he had to begin constantly preparing to become High King of all Tara, and therefore all Ériu. "

I'm certainly positive they weren't climbing in the forest," their mother, Queen Danu, mused, staring down each of them before returning her attention to their breakfast. "Now don't you girls be late to your music lessons today. Your father and I haven't heard you play in so long!"

"We won't be late, mother; We can't wait to play for you," Liusaidh grinned at her. Her mother smiled back. The rest of breakfast was eaten in relative silence as the six children of the mac Neíll family pondered over what news their father might have for them. The longer the silence continued, the more anxious they became. Breakfast was over soon enough and King Aéd decided to deliver the news to them while they were all still gathered.

"Wains… I've-- Well, I've arranged for Caridwen to marry. A Saxon prince, so he is! Right good lad." The children were dumbfounded. Their eldest sister, their voice of reason, their anchor… was being married off across the sea? Caridwen remained silent and did not show any sign of reaction; she kept her mouth shut and stared straight ahead at the cleared feast table. Her siblings, however, were not inclined to be so passive.

"Father," Eoghan began, "She's only fifteen--"

"And I've been in contact with the Saxon king; his youngest wain, Alfred, is also fifteen. They won't be wed immediately, lad! We've decided to arrange the official marriage in three years time. As for now, they'll only be courting one another." Caridwen, Eoghan, and all of their sisters breathed a unified sigh of relief. At least she would get a chance to know the boy before they had to marry, and at least he was her age! She knew that as the eldest daughter of a royal family, that was not always guaranteed.

"What about before she gets married, then?" Labhraín asked. "May she stay here in Tara, with us? I don't want her to be gone forever!"

"Of course your sister won't be leaving, Labhraín!" their mother responded. "She won't be living with the Prince until their wedding. She will stay home with us until it is time for her to leave."

"When will I meet my betrothed?" Caridwen finally asked, eyes still focused on the table.

Her parents noticed her cold demeanor but decided to let her come to terms on her own accord. "We'll set sail for East Anglia tomorrow, Caridwen."

"May my sisters accompany me?" She new Eoghan had no chance of going, since he was expected to watch over Tara in his father's stead.

"Labhraín and Liusaidh may," Aéd agreed. "The twins will stay to keep your mother and brother company." Brigid and Niamh weren't happy that they couldn't partake in the voyage, but accepted it anyways. Lius and Labhraín, however, were deeply grateful that they could be with Caridwen when she met her husband-to-be. They loved their big sister dearly and cherished all the time spent together before Caridwen inevitably would be sent off to marry as a political alliance.

The Queen decided to end the conversation there. "Wains, please; don't wear such sad faces! Your sister is doing a great act for the future of Inis; and she very well may come to love the Prince! But for now, how about we all do our duties for the day and focus on the rest later. Hm?"

—

The next day the four mac Neílls set sail to Wessex; in another two days they'd arrived at Caridwen's future home. The family was met by two representatives from the House of Cerdic: Judith, the Princess of Wessex, and her son Alfred, the prince, and Caridwen's betrothed. The meeting, for the both of them, was awkward and uncomfortable. She was very thankful that they were the same age, because she knew that he must have been just as anxious and unexcited as she was.

The princess welcomed them all to her kingdom and guided the mac Neílls back to the castle, where they were shown their living quarters for the time being. Judith, after a brief conversation with Aéd, instructed for Alfred to give Caridwen a tour of their home, accompanied by Liusaidh and Labhraín. Their parents, in the meantime, were to discuss the more 'political' matters that would be a part of their marriage arrangement.

Once the four children were out of earshot of their parents, they finally felt comfortable to speak freely with each other. "You… You're not excited about this, are you?" Alfred asked Caridwen, not able to look her in the eye as he said so.

She looked at him wide-eyed as she disputed the statement without missing a beat. "Oh, no; of course I am! I'm so sorry for being so aloof with you," she admitted, "It's very difficult to speak freeling among our parents."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. _At least she doesn't hate me,_ he thought. "Yes, I agree. I'm glad to know that you don't despise me." He smiled softly at her.

"I'd never! That wouldn't be very convenient for either of us, now would it?" she responded teasingly.

"I suppose not. And these are your sisters?" He gestured to Liusaidh and Labhraín, who were walking behind them.

"Yes," she smiled, "The wee babies of the family. That's Labhraín, and that's Liusaidh." They smiled warmly at him, and he was glad that his betrothed's family was not behaving coldly towards him.

"Where are the other two?"

"The twins are at home with our mother and brother. I'm sure you'll get to meet them soon enough."

"You have a large family," Alfred noted.

"Yes," Caridwen agreed. "And I love them all so dearly." Her smile now was bittersweet.

"I'm very sorry that you must leave them. I hope you know that when we are married, you ought to feel free to visit them whenever you want. They can even come to Wessex, if that would be better," he offered. Caridwen took his hand and thanked him heartfully.

Liusaidh decided to interrupt the conversation she'd been listening in on. "Sure you'll swear it? We can come whenever we want?" Alfred took her hands in his own.

"I swear it, Liusaidh. I'd never try to keep your sister away from you." She grinned widely and embraced him; at which point he was unable to hide his initial shock. Caridwen and Labhraín couldn't hold in a laugh at this, and soon enough they were all in a much better mood than when they had all met at the docks.

The young royals' happiness wasn't to last for much longer. The announcement of unexpected visitors at the castle entrance was enough to dampen the joy. Judith and Aéd were quick to find their respective children. "Children, all of you; to your rooms.. We have… unexpected guests. From Norway." Liusaidh glanced, wide eyed, at Caridwen and Labhraín, who wore a similar look of concern on their faces.

She leaned over to Labhraín and whispered quietly, "I _told_ you I saw a wee Viking ship."

—

It had been days since the arrival of the Northmen, and soon enough the children had found out that there were only two of them; the King of the Northmen, Ragnar, and his son, Ivar. It had been whispered through the hallways that his son was a cripple, and that is why he was not being treated as harshly as his father.

On the third day, after the King had invited Ivar to dine with him and his father, he was brought back to the solar with the other royal children currently in Wessex. Caridwen and Alfred were in the midst of a game of chess, while Liusaidh and Labhraín were watching them and making comments to one another about each players choices. It was just beginning to irritate Caridwen when Prince Ivar was thrown in with them. "Prince Alfred, Princesses," a guard stated, "The King's ordered that the Northman's son be with the other children his age."

"Yes, I understand," Alfred responded, dismissing them and approaching Ivar. "Do you speak our language?" he asked the teenager, speaking with more enunciation than most usually would.

"I speak enough of it." His quick response was almost shocking to the three young girls. "You are the Prince?"

Before Alfred could respond, Labhraín butted in with a question of her own. "How do you know English?"

He looked to her with a blank expression, but through it Liusaidh could sense bitterness.

"I learned it in Kattegat."

"Is that your wee kingdom?" Liusaidh wondered.

"Yes. It is in Norway. I would like to return, but I can not leave without my father." He glared at Alfred. "Your grandfather is keeping him locked in a tiny cage; like an _animal_."

Alfred looked troubled. "I'm sorry, Ivar; there's nothing I can do. I have no power over the king. All I can do is assure that you will be treated well by all of us," he gestured to the three girls behind him.

Ivar looked past him again at the three girls. "And who are you? I knew of a prince, but no princesses."

"We are from the country of Inis, the kingdom of Tara. I am Caridwen. These are my sisters, Labhraín and Liusaidh. Prince Alfred and I are arranged to be married as an alliance between our two nations." "

How diplomatic of you," he rolled his eyes. Dragging himself over to the table where all the royal children had just been sitting, Liusaidh took particular note of the way he resembled a snake.

"What happened to your wee legs?" she wondered. Labhraín slapped her arm and Caridwen gave her a sharp look. Ivar was less offended than her sisters had been.

"I was born with weak bones. But do not be fooled," he warned, leaning closer to her than she would have liked, "I could still kill you in the blink of an eye." Her eyes went wide and she turned her head to focus her attention on her lap, refraining from any more questions. "You are playing chess?" he asked Caridwen and Alfred. They nodded. "Let me play next."

"Of course," Alfred told him. While Caridwen and Alfred finished their game of chess, Liusaidh was struck with the uncomfortable sensation of being stared at. She looked up from her lap and was met with the sight of Ivar looking directly at her from across the table, as if he were peering into her head. She averted her gaze swiftly but the sensation did not fade; he was still staring at her. In fact, he had been staring at her ever since he'd vaguely threatening her life. She felt a chill run down her spine and goosebumps creeped onto her arms.

Caridwen lost— by a small margin, her sisters declared— and Ivar took her seat across from Alfred. He was quiet and calculating during the game, not breaking his focus as he moved pieces across the board into Alfred territory. Liusaidh was grateful for his lack of focus on her while he played against her future brother-in-law, but every once in a while, when she wasn't looking at him, he would steal glances at her. _She is pretty_ , Ivar mused. _Very timid, like a cornered cat. I wonder what it would take to make her strike_.

Moments later, Ivar won the match, and a nursemaid entered the solar to inform them all that it was time to eat with Alfred's and the princesses families.

All the young royals stood up— save for Ivar— and made their way to the Great Hall for their meal. Liusaidh was the second to last to leave the room, trailing after Labhraín, when her arm was roughly grabbed by a gloved hand. She looked down to her left to see Ivar still seated, his grip on her not wavering. Her breath hitched in her throat. "I _could_ kill you," he reminded her, referring to their previous interaction, "But what a waste that would be." He pulled her arm down and she was brought down with it. His free hand reached her face and he brushed some stray hairs back, letting his gloved palm rest on her cheek, his fingertips residing on her temple. His thumb moved across her cheek and she felt unable to breathe. Ivar did not break eye contact with her, but unlike with the rest of the royal children, he was not glaring at her. It was more of a gaze than anything else she could describe.

She was finally able to find her voice as she meekly pleaded, "Please let me go." His momentary trance was broken and he released his grip.

"Your sisters will be waiting," he noted, "You'd better hurry along." She wasted no time in obeying, swiftly exiting the room and moving down the hallway to follow behind her sisters and Alfred.

When Ivar arrived in the Great Hall to join them, pulling himself forward on the ground, he seated himself directly across from where Liusaidh sat. She made a point to look anywhere but in front of her.

Judith, sitting at the right hand of her husband, broke the silence after they had all eaten their fill. "Girls," she began, smiling at the princesses, "Your father tells me you are gifted musicians."

"Father flatters us," Caridwen smiled, looking from Judith to Aéd.

"Well. I would love to hear you all play something for us. Wouldn't you?" The sisters agreed and moved to the side of the room with an assortment of instruments ready to be played.

'What would you like us to sing for you?" Labhraín asked.

"Something from your home. A traditional song from Ériu, if you would; we had best begin to learn the culture of our allies," she smiled at them, then at King Aéd.

He returned the look and turned his attention to his daughters. "The wains do have lovely voices. None better in the whole kingdom, so it is; and I'm not just speaking as their father," he stated. "Go on wains; sing us a wee song."

"Very well, all of you. We'll sing something." Each sister sat down in the chairs set up amongst the instruments and picked one— a _fidil_ , a _cláirseach_ , and a _buinne_ were chosen by the three.

"What do you think we should sing, Caridwen?" Labhraín asked. She pondered for a moment.

"Let's do _Fáinne Geal an Lae_ ," she suggested. It was one that the siblings had only learned recently, and it was fresh in their minds. It was a simple, slow, melancholic song; but the only ones who'd truly know that were them and their father. Softly, they began. "Maidin moch do ghablas amach ar bruach Locha Léin; An Samhradh 'teacht 's an chraobh len' is ionrach te ón ngréin. Ar thaisteal dom trí bhailte poirt is bánta míne réidhe, cé a gheobhainn me m'ais ach an chúileann deas le fáinne geal an lae?" _One morning early I went out on the shore of Lough Leinn. The leafy trees of summertime and the warm rays of the sun; as I wandered through the townlands and the luscious grassy plains, who should I meet but a beautiful maid at the dawning of the day?_ "Ní raibh bróg ná stoca, caidhp ná clóc ar mo stóirín óg ón speir. Ach folt fionn órga síos go troigh ag fás go barr an fhéir. Bhí calán crúite aici ina glaic; 's ar dhrúcht la dheas a scéimh. Do rug barr gean ar Bhéineas deas la fáinne geal an lae." _Not a shoe, nor sock, nor cape, nor cloak had the maiden from the sky. Her golden hair in tresses hung and touched the grass up high. In her hand she held a milking pail; in the dew, she looked so far. Her beauty excelled even Helen of Troy at the dawning of the day._ "Do shuigh an bhrídoeg síos le m'ais ar bhinse glas den fhéar, as magabh léi, bhíos dá maíomh go pras mar mhnaoi nach scarfainn léi. 'S é dúirt sí liomsa, 'Imigh uaim is scaoil ar siúil mé a réic. Sin iad aneas na soils,e as teacht le fáinne geal an lae.'" _The young maiden sat by my side on a green grassy bench; joking her and claiming that I'd never part with her. She turned and said, 'Please go away, you are not wide awake. Here come the lights, I must be gone with the dawning of the day.'_ The three princesses lowered their instruments and were met with lively applause from their small audience. Liusaidh, daring to look Ivar's way, even saw him slowing clapping for her. _For me,_ she chastised herself, _That's a silly thought. Even so, I'm surprised he's even clapping at all_.

"What lovely voices you girls have. And so talented with the instruments, as well!" Judith praised them. "Your mother and father must be very grateful to have such lovely singers amongst them." Caridwen accepted the compliments on behalf of her sisters gracefully.

"Thank you very much, Princess Judith. If you would like, we could sing something in English as well?" Judith accepted the offer and Caridwen traded the _cláirseach_ for a _timpán_.

"This love it is a distant star, guiding us home wherever we are. This love it is a burning sun, shining light on the things that we've done. I try to speak to you every day, but each word we spoke the wind blew away. Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground. And deep behind this prison we share, step into the open air. How did we let it come to this? What we just tasted we somehow still miss. How will it feel when this day is done? And can we keep what we've only begun? And now these walls come crumbling down, and I can feel my feet on the ground. Can we carry this love that we share into the open air? Into the open air, to the open air. This love, it is a burning sun."

Once again the girls were met with quiet applause. "Oh, dear Caridwen, I do hope you'll play for us when you come to live in Wessex with us."

"Gladly, Princess Judith. It would be an honor."

"I'm so happy to hear that." Judith addressed her husband and King Aéd. "Aethelwulf, King Aéd, I believe it's time for us to discuss more matters on the topic of our alliance. Children, would you all return to the solar?"

The young royals all obeyed, and were soon enough back to the room they'd previously been lounging in.

Ivar's gaze never left Liusaidh, even when she caught him staring at her again. _'Does he feel no shame?'_ she wondered, _'Staring at a girl like that… I suppose that's what Northmen do. Oh, I can't wait to go home and never have to see another Viking again.'_


	2. Chapter 2

"It's a great privilege to meet you again, Ragnar Lothbrok."

Alfred, Caridwen, Labhraín, and Liusaidh all stood nearby each other as Judith introduced her son to the great Viking king. 

"Not every Saxon would agree." The man was bald, bearded, heavily tattooed, and wearing what seemed like rags. He was barefoot. Caridwen didn't think he looked very kingly at all this way. Judith's hand guided her son's back and Ragnar stood up, walking to get a closer look at the future king of Wessex.

"I'm not every Saxon." Judith and her son shared a look that was lost on the princesses, the King, and the Viking. He walked forward and stood just before Ragnar. "This is my son, Alfred. He is the son— "

"I know," Ragnar interrupted. He seemed distracted and turned to look back and King Ecbert. "Without explanation." Ecbert smiled and Ragnar turned around, walking right up to the young prince. It was then that the girls noticed the shackles on his hands. Liusaidh nudged Labhraín and gestured in the direction of his arms; the young sisters shared a confused look before returning their attention to the interaction in front of them. "You are Aethelstan's son," he smiled. In a moment of emotional rawness, Ragnar brought the boy to him in an embrace. The girls didn't know who Aethelstan was; but clearly he meant a lot to Ragnar for him to hug the man's son upon meeting him for the first time. Ragnar gave a breathy laugh, as if he had suddenly been brought to peace, and smiled warmly at the young boy. "You look just like your father," he told Alfred. 

"People who knew him say that a lot," he responded, and both cracked a smile. He returned to his mother's side.

Ragnar turned his attention to the princesses. "I'm very sorry; excuse my manners. I am not a proper Englishman," he joked, and the girls received it well. "Who are the young ladies?"

"I am Caridwen, Your Highness, Princess of Inis. Prince Alfred is my betrothed."

"Ah, well, he is a lucky boy."

"And these are my youngest sisters, Labhraín and Liusaidh." The girls bowed as Caridwen introduced them. "We have had the great honor of meeting your son, Ivar."

"Is my boy well?" he asked. "Other than that he is a cripple."

"Other than that he's crazy," Liusaidh whispered to Labhraín. The girls smirked. 

"I should hope so," Caridwen replied over her sisters, "We have been keeping him company."

"Then I am grateful to you. Ivar is often on his own. The children in Kattegat do not much care for him," he whispered loudly, as if he were sharing a secret. 

"We will do our best to make him feel welcome," Alfred intervened.

"Children," Judith called, "Perhaps you had best go and find the poor boy, The  _ men _ have much to discuss."

—

"... Then do this for me. Let my crippled son Ivar go home. He is obviously no threat to you. You arrange for a ship, for sailors; you just make sure my son gets home safely."

"You have my word."

— 

In the morning the two young princes were off in a secluded room playing a game of chess when they were found by the three visiting princesses. Sunlight streamed dimly through the barred window as they sat silent, locked in a battle of strategy and wits. Alfred was serious and precise, and with every move Ivar would smile and nod like he knew something that no one else did. Liusaidh took special notice of his attitude on that morning. He seemed more chipper than usual. Near the end of their game, Alfred began to hesitate on his moves and it seemed as though he was losing his confidence. Caridwen sat beside him, silently cheering him on. Liusaidh and Labhraín sat at the ends of the table, neither of them necessarily desiring to sit any closer to the Viking prince. 

At last, Alfred seemed to have won the match, and Ivar gracefully ceded, bearing him no ill will. The two men— boys, really— shared a civil smile and the girls decided that then would be a good time to begin a conversation. Unfortunately before a word could be spoken, palace guards entered the room. "We have orders to take the cripple," they said bluntly. He and Alfred shared a look before Ivar looked to the guards. 

"And where do you plan to take me?"

"King said your father wanted to talk to you."

Ivar accepted their brash request and was carried off by the men, but not before sending a sly and conniving wink to Liusaidh on his way out. She shivered. 

—

"You do not  _ think _ like other men! You are unpredictable. That will serve you well. Use your anger intelligently, and I promise you, my son, that one day, the whole world will  _ know— _ and  _ fear— _ Ivar the Boneless. " 

"I wish I wasn't so angry all the time … I might've been happy." Ivar could not help the image of Liusaidh that flashed through his mind when he admitted this to his father.  _ With that girl… that strange and wonderful girl. _

_ …  _

_ "Everyone will always underestimate you. You must make them pay for it." _

— 

Not long after, Liusaidh, Labhraín, and Caridwen all watched from the villa as Ivar was carried out by two guards onto the back of a wagon. They followed behind Alfred as he went up to send him off. 

No words were spoken between the two, even though no one around (but the girls) could've heard them. Alfred merely handed him a chess piece— one from their game just that morning. Ivar took it and stared. In a final moment of peace with the boy, they both nodded to one another.

As the wagon took off, Ivar looked at the youngest Irish princess, and nodded. She had no idea what the gesture meant, but she had never felt comfortable thinking about him from that moment on. 

—

After Ivar's return back to Kattegat, he could not seem to take him mind off of the young foreign princess he had met in Wessex.  _ Liusaidh _ . He loved the way her name sounded. She was a pretty girl, that was undeniable, but there was something else about her that drew him to her. She had a strong spirit, even if it was at times overshadowed by her fear of him.  _ Good _ , he thought, _ she should fear me; everyone will fear Ivar the  _ Boneless. 

It was no surprise that Ivar was already planning to return to England to avenge his father, but even this early on, he was beginning to formulate a plan on how to find the girl once more. He should like to capture her and keep her around a while. She seemed to be good fun, even though she could be timid. He  _ enjoyed _ being feared and he would make her fear  _ him _ above all others. 

—

"What's wrong?" Ubbe asked the slave girl he was taken with, Margrethe.

"Where is Ivar?" she responded, anxiously.

"Don't worry about Ivar. He has other things on his mind. Apparently he met some foreign princess while he and my father were in Wessex and now he will not stop thinking about her. I think he is obsessed."

_ Poor girl _ , she thought;  _ Things will not end well for her.  _

—

The boat trip back to Inis was unpleasant for Liusaidh; when she was not busy feeling nauseous from the rocking of the waves, she was nauseous thinking about the strange and scary Viking prince who had left Wessex not long before them. 

His father, she and her sisters had discovered, was handed off to King Ælle, one of Wessex's allies, to be killed. 

She could imagine that he was not happy about his father's fate. And knowing what she did about Vikings, well… She could not help but fear for the fate of Wessex and its allies. Vikings were bloodthirsty, ruthless killers who loved violence and revenge. At least, that was what she had deducted from Eoghan's bedtime stories. 

The Vikings she had met did not fit this description exactly, but she could tell that the two of them were not averse to fighting and killing others in the blink of an eye. And then there was the matter of his strange good-bye. She supposed it was sweet of Alfred to have given him a chess piece as a symbol of goodwill— if that was any hint to the sort of ruler he would grow up to be, he would certainly be one of the most diplomatic men she'd ever met. But what on God's earth had compelled Ivar to consider her so peculiarly? 

She hadn't an idea as to what he meant when he nodded at her, but it made her nervous. They were by no means amiable with one another. At the very least she'd considered her attitude nothing less than civil, but he, on the other hand… he was menacing, and seemed to enjoy making her skin crawl. 

—

When they arrived back at the docks the rest of their family was there, waiting to greet them. The two youngest girls jumped out of the boat at the first possible moment and ran to their brother, who was waiting to welcome them with open arms.

"Eoghan!"

"Eoghan, we wish you could've come with us," Labhraín told him. The girls had their arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling him down to their height. He held them back, tightly. 

"I missed you so much,  _ deartháir _ !" Liusaidh added.

"And I you,  _ mo chroidhe _ . Tell me, how was Wessex? Did you meet any interesting people there?"

The two girls shared a solemn glance once parted from their brother. He asked them what was wrong.

"We met a…" Liusaidh stood on her tip-toes to whisper in Eoghan's ear. "A  _ viking _ . A  _ real _ one."

"Well… two, actually," Labhraín corrected. 

"You don't say," Eoghan responded, wide eyed. "Well, were they anything like the stories I used to tell?" The three siblings walked off toward the castle. Eoghan's arms rested around the shoulders of his two littlest sisters and their arms crossed over his back.

"They didn't fight anyone, or even yell!" Labhraín exclaimed. "But there  _ were _ only two of them… It was a king and his son. His son was a cripple."

"Oh; well I imagine he wasn't very scary then, was he?"

"He was the scariest man I ever saw," Liusaidh nearly whispered. "If he stayed any longer, I'm sure he would have killed us in our sleep."

"Oh, no, sweet Liusaidh," Eoghan reassured, ruffling the hair on her head and making her giggle. "No one would ever want to hurt my little sisters. They are far too kind."

"No, really, Eoghan; Prince Ivar really did look like he wanted to kill her! He always glared at her and never smiled, or said anything nice."   
"Vikings don't have very good manners then, do they?"

The three of them agreed on Eoghan's observation and soon returned to the castle.

Caridwen, Aéd, and Danu followed behind them as Caridwen informed them both of her time in England, how she found everything, and her thoughts on the Prince.

When Brigid and Niamh saw the six mac Neills returning from the docks, they swiftly abandoned their music lesson and raced down to the castle gates to greet them. "Father! Caridwen! Lahbraín! Liusaidh!" the two girls shouted, sprinting to meet up with them sooner. Their father caught the two of them in a great bear-hug, eliciting shrill giggles from the young twins. Caridwen embraced them tightly, as well, and then they each hugged the two youngest. "You  _ must _ tell us all about England!"

"We will, we will!" Caridwen promised. "But first, you little sneaks must go back inside and finish your music lesson," she chastised, a knowing smirk on her face. The twins sighed, dejected, but obeyed their sister as the royal family entered their home all together.

Brigid locked her arm onto Liusaidh's right as they all made their way back inside, resting her head on her littlest sister's shoulder. "Did you get to see any witch burnings?" she asked, wide-eyed and serious.

"Wh- … No, Brigid! Why would we have seen witch burnings?"

"They burn their witches over there. Only way to properly dispose of the body, sure it is. Otherwise it'll just stay in tact. It's right  _ craic _ , so I've heard."

"I… I don't think that's what it is, Brigid," Eoghan interjected. She looked at him confusedly, silently asking for an explanation. "I think they burn witches because they're devil worshippers."

"I do  _ not _ accept that!" she responded, somewhat offended by the notion. 

"We did see Vikings, though, Brigid," Labhraín told her. 

"Ooh, with the pointed horns on their helmets!"

"Didn't see any of those, I'm afraid." Brigid looked downcast, feeling a bit dejected that her previous knowledge was not, in fact, correct.

"Well, I wonder what else isn't real, then? I bet you'll say banshees, next?"

— 

"Wains! Sing your poor old father a song, will you?"

There was a great feast that night to celebrate the Princesses and King's safe return home after a successful journey. The girls had taken to playing their instruments after they had all had their fair share of food, and their father, who was calm and in good spirits after drinking plenty of wine, was in the mood for vocals, as well.

"What shall we sing you, father?" Niamh called to him. He lifted his chalice in the air, slumped in his seat.

"Sing the wee old tune about the willow maid, would you?"

And so the girls began their song, each to her instrument as it was needed, and singing in the harmonies they'd practiced in their music lessons for months. "A young man walked through the forest with his quiver and hunting bow. He heard a young girl singing, and followed the sound below. There he found the maiden who lived in the willow. He called to her as she listened from a ring of toadstools red: 'Come with me, my maiden; come from thy willow bed.' She looked at him serenely and only shook her head.

"'See me now, a ray of light in the moondance. See me now, I cannot leave this place. Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.'

"A young man walked through the forest with a flower and coat of green. His love had hair like fire, her eyes an emerald sheen; she wrapped herself in beauty, so young and so serene. He stood there under the willow and he gave her the yellow bloom. 'Girl, my heart you've captured. Oh, I would be your groom.' She said she'd wed him never: Not near, nor far, nor soon.

"'See me now, a ray of light in the moondance. See me now, I cannot leave this place. Hear me now, a strain of song in the forest. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.'

"A young man walked through the forest with an axe sharp as a knife. 'I'll take the green-eyed faerie and she shall be my wife. With her I'll raise my children; With her, I'll live my life.' The maiden wept when she heard him, when he said he'd set her free. He took his axe and used it to bring down her ancient tree. 'Now your willow's fallen; now you belong to me.'

"See me now, a ray of light in the moondance. See me now, I cannot leave this place. See me now, a ray of light in the moondance. Don't ask me to follow where you lead.'

"She followed him out the forest and collapsed upon the earth. Her feet had walked but a distance from the green land of her birth. She faded into a flower that would bloom for one bright eve. He could not take from the forest what was never meant to leave."

At the final note of their song, the King and Queen clapped emphatically for their daughters; and soon after, the whole dining hall of the Castle at Tara was applauding the young princesses. Their brother, sitting at the table with their parents, called into the crowd. "Sing another song for us!" Caridwen smirked and rolled her eyes at her brother, who returned a smug grin, but the girls obeyed. The crowd of attendees were all in agreement with Eoghan's wish. 

And once again taking their instruments and preparing to play, they sang another song for their people and their family. " _ Siúil, siúil, siúil a rún. Siúil go sochair, agus siúil go ciúin. Siúil go doras, agus éalaigh liom; Is go dté tú, mo mhúirnín, slán. _ I wish I was on yonder hill; 'tis there I'd sit and cry my fill 'til every tear would turn a mill. I _ s go dté tú, mo mhúirnín, slán _ . I'd sell my rock, I'd sell my reel: I'd sell my only spinning wheel to buy my love a sword of steel:  _ Is go dté tú, mo mhúirnín, slán _ . I wish, I wish, I wish in vain: I wish I had my heart again; and vainly, think I'd not complain:  _ Is go dté tú, mo mhúirnín, slán _ ."

— 

Hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away, the notorious Viking prince was relaying to his two brothers brothers about his trip to England, as well as formulating a plan to seek revenge on the kings who had facilitated his father's death. 

"You want to plot revenge against Ælle?" Ubbe asked.

"Not only against Ælle," Ivar corrected. "I— I told you." He turned his gaze to Sigurd. "King  _ Ecbert _ offered our father up like a sacrifice, so I'll do the same thing to him…  _ That _ is what father wanted.  _ That _ is the message he wanted me to bring to you." He went silent for a moment. "And then… there are the princesses. From a kingdom even past England. We should go and raid it after we get our revenge… I should like some new slaves. I already have mine picked out."

"That is very easy for you to say, Ivar," Ubbe responded. "And could you also focus on one plan at a time? Instead of planning raids to places we can not be sure exist."

"Oh, there he is. The voice of  _ reason _ !" he whispered harshly. Ivar stabbed the knife he'd been holding into the tabletop. "I hate reason."

— 

"Actually… there might be something that you can do for me."

"Oh?" Floki asked. His tone was dripping with sarcasm and he had a mocking smile on his face, but Ivar continued with his request.

"Now that we are going to England to fight, it's about time I didn't have to crawl about… Especially on the battlefield.Or when I… I raid Inis and take their princess."

"Ivar," Floki began, all the former lightness in his tone disappeared. "I know nothing of this land… or of this girl! Tell me, boy."

"It is a kingdom even farther west than England. When father took me with him… Some of the princesses were visiting about an alliance. I want to take the youngest back here; back to Kattegat. There is something about her, Floki… They are not like the Christians in England. I think that if I bring her to live with Vikings, she could even become one of us-- "   
"Ivar. A Christian girl? You want to kidnap a Christian princess and turn her into a Viking?"

"Well… I at least want to find her again; and bring her back with me. I have not stopped thinking about her, Floki."   
"What is her name?"   
"Liusaidh."

"How strange! I've never heard it before. Tell me, is she beautiful?"

"I think she is the prettiest thing I ever saw. I want her back. I wonder… If you could help me, Floki."

He stared at the boy for a few moments before giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll figure something out."

— 

"What is it?"   
"It's your legs, Ivar. It's your wings." He dropped the young man on the ground as they both stared at the contraption in front of them. Ivar hauled himself over to it. 

With tears in his eyes, and a genuine smile, he asked Floki, "I- is it really for me?" Floki nodded and Ivar laughed gleefully. He pulled himself up into the chariot-like creation of Floki's and before long, a great white horse was pulling Ivar around as fast as the wind. He was cheering the whole time the horse ran him around the woods as Floki laughed in excitement. 

The part of his new gift that Ivar loved the most, he decided, was the extra seat on the inside of the chariot. "For your Liusaidh," Floki had told him. 

—

— 

"Friends! No one will ever be able to doubt what we have achieved— an army of all our people. And we have defeated not one, but  _ two _ English kingdoms!" The Great Army gave a loud shout at Bjorn's celebratory speech. "For us, the sons of Ragnar, our first duty was to avenge our father's death— and that we have done! But also, we have achieved my father's dream. We have the legal right to the land,  _ and _ to farm here! It is up to all of you to use this opportunity to send over new settlers and new families. Unfortunately, I will not be here to see this new settlement grow and thrive. My fate will take me elsewhere. 

"I always knew I had to return to explore the Mediterranean Sea. And now, I feel free to follow my destiny.  _ But _ : my brothers will be here for you!  _ Skol _ !"

Everyone toasted to his great speech and drank, and then Ivar spoke up as well. 

"I will not be here. Not to settle down and farm. Who wants to be a farmer now?" he asked the Army. "Hm? We have a great army, and we should  _ use _ it! There are many other places that I want to attack and raid! And those of you who feel like I do… you should come with me. There is a land, even farther west that England, that none of us have ever been to. Its kingdoms are powerful and wealthy, and I know their royals personally… I should like to take over that kingdom first. 

"And those of you who don't? Ask yourself: who can stand in our way now?" The crowd, riled up again, gave another great shout in support of Ivar's proposal. 

"You can not lead the army, Ivar," Ubbe spoke carefully.

"I don't want to,  _ Ubbe _ . All I'm saying is that for those who are still brave enough to raid and find adventure, then… I will lead them. You can put on an apron and settle down if you want to," he said with a mocking smirk. 

"It will take a great man, Ivar," Hvitserk told his little brother. "Stake a claim here, defend it."

Ivar was not convinced by his words. "Ah… that does not sound like yourself, dear brother. The Hvitserk I know? He  _ loves _ to raid… and he loves pretty girls. He's a real  _ Viking _ . And the princesses of this kingdom? They are beautiful. You would regret not joining me.

"But what you just said? That is not the Viking way. So..." he spoke to the crowd again, "Who among you will follow me? Who will follow me into battle, for the love of fame? And for the love of  _ Odin Allfather _ !"   
— 

In the witching hour, while the princesses of Inis slept soundly, Labhraín was in the midst of an unusual nightmare.

She was barefoot, in a simple white slip and shawl, while she ran across the great fields outside of the castle. She could feel the small twigs and rocks pressing into the soft parts of her skin but could not be bothered to care. The wet morning dew on the grass made her footsteps slippery and she almost fumbled a handful of times, but kept pushing herself back up and continuing on. She was running away from something, she knew; when she looked back behind her, she could see the shape of a man clad in dark clothes and metal armor chasing after her. He held a long sword in his hand and had blood caked on to his face. He was smiling maniacally and screaming in an unknown language to her.

The faster she tried to run, the slower she went. And the main was gaining on her: closer, and closer, until she could see his face more clearly. In spite of the blood and the dirt splattered all over him, it was obvious he was handsome. He had a dark shade of blonde hair that was braided back behind his head in several rows, and he had piercing hazel colored eyes. 

The closer he got, the more Labhraín panicked; she didn't know who he was, but she knew she'd been running from a reason — and she'd been running from  _ him _ and he was getting closer and he was getting too close

— 

She bolted upright in her bed, taking the deepest breath of her life and clutching a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure it was about to explode. There was a thin layer of sweat that covered her forehead and clung her hair to her cheeks. She was panting like she'd just ran around the world. Labhraín removed the blankets from covering her and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing up as her bare feet made direct contact with the stone-cold floor. She grabbed a candle from her bedside table and lit it, using it to guide her path as she walked herself to the drawing room that connected hers and Liusaidh's room to Brigid and Niamh's. There was a pitcher of water sitting on the table with several small cups beside it; she poured herself a glass and swallowed it as if she were breathing air. 

She had been nervous to go back to bed for the rest of the night.

— 

In his own bed, Prince Hvitserk of Kattegat was having a similar dream. But instead of running from someone, he had been getting closer and closer to someone. In his dream, for reasons unknown to him, he had felt an intense urge to see the girl's face who was running in front of him. She had long, brown, wavy hair that fell midway down her back; it was billowing behind her from her running and from the blowing of the cool wind. She was wearing a white dress and an unusual cloak over it, and she had no shoes on. She was running up a hill barefoot, desperately trying to put distance between them, but he was equally as desperate to see the girl's face. 

And then, suddenly, he was right in front of her and she was turned to face him. He was taller than her, and she had a face that he'd imagine a fae might have (if he knew what a fae was): a wide mouth with full lips, a soft, round nose, deep set, dark eyes, and eyebrows to match.

And when he woke up in a start, his heart was not racing for the same reason that Labhraín's was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> siúil a rún is a traditional song from Ireland about a girl lamenting about her love going off to war.  
> "siúil, siúil, siúil a rún; siúil go sochiar agus siúil go ciúin. siúil go doras agus éalaigh liom: is go dté tú mo mhúirnin, slán": go, go, go my love; go quietly and go peacefully. go to the door and fly from me: go safely, my darling, goodbye. (shool a roon; shool guh socair awgus shool guh kyoon; shool guh dorris awgus ayley lom; ish guh je tuh muh voorneen, slon)
> 
> "deartháir": (dar/jar hair) brother
> 
> "mo chroide": (muh croy) my darling, dearest, (lit.) my heart
> 
> if yall watch derry girls -- im trying my best to make brigid very similar to orla bc i absolutely LOVEEE her weird bitch vibes.


	3. Chapter 3

If the bond between the sons of Ragnar hadn't already been split after avenging their father, then they certainly were the moment that Ivar picked up his axe and launched it into Sigurd's chest. But when Ivar offered that his brothers remaining were welcome to join him on his journey to continue conquering more land and searching for the princess he had met not long before, something stirred in Hvitserk's heart. He was willing to look past the atrocity that Ivar had committed, if only for a while, if it meant that the dream he had been having could finally be answered. 

When the youngest Ragnarson happened upon Floki and Helga planning to leave with their stolen child from Andalusia, he was half surprised that he was able to convince them to stay around for him. He was honestly devastated by the fact that he'd murdered his own brother, and Floki knew this better than anyone: one look at Ivar begging them to stay with him was all that he needed to know that Ivar would crumble without the one person who'd always been there for him. "My heart is broken," he whispered, voice hoarse from sobbing. 

Floki hugged him tightly. "It will repair," he promised. "Think of your Liusaidh. Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world. You will survive this."

— 

"The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement," Ubbe reasoned. 

"D'you agree, Ivar?" Hvitserk silently hoped that he wouldn't, but his tone remained impartial.

"I don't want to disband the army. In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength! My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Ælle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say," he gestured to Ubbe, "But near the coast. From where we can raid wherever we want."

"Our father's dream," Ubbe argued, using a half eaten chicken leg to punctuate his point, "Was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way."   
"You're not listening, Ubbe. We- we have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands, and shipping routes… we can build an impregnable fortress."   
"Where?" Hvitserk goaded. 

"I've heard of a town. Called York." His brothers, clearly interested, stopped eating for a moment to listen. "It is built on a major river and it is not far from the sea. And I think that… we should take it."

Ubbe dissented. "No. It would seem like a withdrawal."

"Yes. Yes, it would," Ivar concurred, "But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies! In York, we are near our home. Right, Hvitserk?"   
Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, hopeful. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north, and take York."

"That's good," Ubbe said, fake cheerfully, and left the tent. Hvitserk and Ivar shared a look. 

"What about your Princess in Inis, Ivar?" Hvitserk prompted. "York is not near that other coast."

"No," he admitted, "But that is why we are going to Inis first, and then taking York."

"What do you mean?" he promptly spat back. "You just said— "

"I know what I said to Ubbe. But, brother, we are going to raid the other kingdom first, take what I am seeking, and then return to York. And…" he paused for a brief moment. "I am sure there is something you would like from Inish as well. The princess has plenty of sisters," he suggested. 

Hvitserk wouldn't show it, but the thought of that excited him. He wondered if the girl that kept appearing in his dreams could possibly be one of the sisters Ivar mentioned. 

— 

"They're coming." Liusaidh woke up early in the morning, gasping for air like she hadn't breathed in hours. She had burrowed into Caridwen's side in the middle of the night during a particularly loud thunderstorm. The mac Neíll children all loved the rain, of course, but it was somewhat of a ritual for them to all gather in Caridwen's room when there was a midnight storm.

Niamh, on the other side of Caridwen and not moving a single inch, called out muffled by the covers, "What are you on about, Lius?"

"Vikings. They're coming. I— I had a dream about it. They're in England and they're coming to Inis."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brigid called from the other end of Caridwen's bed. "Vikings don't want to come here."   
"I'm not kidding, both of you! It was like a vision; like I could see it happening in real life, but sped up very fast."   
Labhraín was only half awake at that moment, but understood perfectly what Liusaidh was describing. "She's right," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm having a dream like it."

Caridwen, now fully awake and aware, sat up and got out of bed, walking over to her nightstand and pouring a jug of water into a bowl to wash her face. "Well then," she mumbled, "I suppose we should tell someone?" Brigid nodded.

"We should tell Morrigan, she knows  _ all about _ these things."

"What do I know all about, you wee rascals?" Morrigan asked, entering into Caridwen's room to prepare them for the day. 

"Liusaidh and Labhraín have been havin' the same dream about the same wee Vikings comin' to the island," Brigid told her. Morrigan nodded.

"Well then, wains, I'd say we'd better figure out what it all means then, wouldn't you?"

— 

The princesses all trailed alongside or behind Morrigan as she led them to the drawing room in their section of the castle where they would all have their lessons— though, for today, instead of learning embroidery or music or writing, they'd be learning how to interpret the youngest mac Neílls most recent dreams. As the five young ladies took seats all around the room, Morrigan instructed Liusaidh and Labhraín to sit in front of her and relay their dreams in as much detail as they could recall.

Liusaidh went first, informing them about how she saw their beloved home, billowing in smoke, being plundered and pillaged by Viking raiders; how she saw her sisters all being pulled away from one another, while one group fled to safety and the other was lead to the Viking ships; how she could clearly see the face of the Viking boy that they had met in England not so long ago, and how he was the one dragging her away from her destroyed home. 

Labhraín, still mildly bothered by Liusaidh's own dream, was then instructed to share her own. It had been recurring for several nights, and always the same: the same bloodied Viking man charging at her, always running away, but never fast enough, and being captured and dragged away to their heathen ships. Morrigan nodded understandingly upon hearing both dreams while the other three sisters waited with bated breath to hear her conclusion. "Well, lasses, it seems we have some mystics on our hands. Those are purely prophetic dreams if I've ever heard 'em— and I have, best you believe. What we're to do now is tell your Ma and Da all about what you've been seein', and let them decide how to deal with it."

— 

As it turned out, the girls' parents decision on how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it at all. Despite all Morrigan's attempts to convince the king and queen that their daughters' dreams were truly seeing the future, and that they had much to fear, they couldn't be made to believe it. 

"Girls," their father began, "I know that you believe that your dreams are tellin' the future. But I can promise you, with all I know, that it's simply not gonna happen! Your dreams are just the results of having too active imaginations, and from bein' at each other's sides all the live-long day. Lord above, you'd think the two wains were more twins than the  _ actual _ twins," their father muttered to their mother, who simply nodded in response. "Now go to your studies please, all of you. Thank you for letting us know about your concerns, lasses, but there's nothing to worry about."

— 

The next morning, Ivar and Hvitserk took off with a small band of men — enough to do damage, but not enough to make the rest of their great army less powerful— and headed off toward the opposite coast to sail to Inis. They'd informed Ubbe at the last minute, telling him of their plans to capture the kingdom and steal away a princess or two, and he was less than pleased with the idea. "You can't just raid an entire country on a whim, Ivar," he'd scolded, "These things have to be planned. What if you don't take enough men and get everyone killed, huh? This is a horrible idea. And what if the Saxons push us out while you are one?"

"The Saxons could not push us out no matter how hard they try; even if I take some men away for now. We are still stronger than them in every possible way, Ubbe. Have faith, brother! We have a plan. We know their kingdom does not have a very strong army. It will be an easy raid. Like when father sacked the monastery at Lindisfarne so long ago. There is nothing to worry about; and we will be back before you can even miss me," he smirked smugly, patting his oldest brother's cheek. 

And so, despite his protests, Ivar and Hvitserk headed west to Inis, to capture the kingdom of Tara and, perhaps, even some princesses.

— 

Within a week of Liusaidh and Labhraín's dreams first recurring, there had been news that Caridwen's betrothed, Alfred, was deathly ill, that the kingdom of Wessex had been taken over by Vikings, and that a band of "rogue" Vikings were heading west. Caridwen, who hadn't seen Alfred in close to three years, was devastated. There was no news that he had died (yet), but his mother Judith claimed that he wasn't showing signs of recovering any time soon. The two young royals had exchanged letters back and forth rather regularly after they'd first met one another all those years ago, and she was distraught that he was so ill and so far from home. 

Her mother and father were concerned as well; not only for Alfred's health, but also for their daughter's future. "If Alfred doesn't survive, who will be left for her? His  _ brother? _ Christ in heaven, Danu, it's not that I  _ want _ to send the girl away, but we need this alliance."

"All we can do for now is pray, Aéd. We can't start makin' arrangements for the wain before anything even happens. Have faith that he'll be alright. If only for Caridwen."

Eoghan and his younger sisters, minus the eldest, were more concerned about the whispers of rogue Vikings and that they were coming west. Out in the forest once again, climbing trees and picking berries, they discussed their theories.

"Labhraín and I  _ told _ you all that Vikings were coming. We had dreams and everything, but you didn't believe us."

"You don't even know that they're coming here, Liusiadh," Niamh called up to her sister, sitting on a tree branch and whittling a twig she'd found. "Y'have one dream and all of a sudden think you're a mystic; sweet Jesus."

"Niamh! You watch your words talkin' about the Lord!" Eoghan chastised her. The two of them were sitting below the trees on a quilt that they'd brought from the castle.

"Aye, Niamh, you shouldn't swear," Brigid called from beyond the bushes, picking berries. "Because when you swear, our Lady in Heaven, she cries her tears; and then make rain." She appeared in the clearing with the rest of her siblings. "Isn't that right, Eoghan?"

He stared at her for a moment, baffled, before slowly nodding. "Aye… so it is, Brigid. So it is." Brigid, pleased with his assurance, nodded once and smiled before hopping back off to pick more fruits. 

"I think you're all dense as rocks for not believin' our dreams," Labhraín called. She was sitting on a tree branch opposite Liusaidh, weaving together flowers that she'd picked on their way to the forest. "Even Morrigan said so."

"Eoghan?" Liusaidh called to her brother. "How long d'you suppose it would take some Vikings to reach our coast from Wessex?" Physically, she was trying her hardest not to appear bothered; but the shaking of her voice betrayed the steadiness of her face.

"Week, week and a half maybe, Lius," he told her honestly. Eoghan was never the type to lie to someone for their own comfort. "But there's no way to know for sure whether or not these Vikings are even trying to come to Inis."

"Aye, not until they show up right on the coastline," Brigid deadpanned. "'Course, by then, it's too late. Y'know, because we're already trapped."

"Christ, Brigid! D'you have any damn empathy for your sister at all?" Niamh yelled. Eoghan, peeved with her profanity, launched an elderberry at her forehead. "Catch yerself on, Eoghan," she shot at him. 

"What's your problem lately, Niamh?" Labhraín asked. 

  
"Just gets me angry that you're all actin' as if there isn't something wrong when there clearly is." After a beat of silence, she continued. "Our oldest sister's bein' married off to a wain she met one time; and if that wain dies 'cause he's sick, then Da will make her marry his older brother, who might as well be an old man. And no one seems to care except me, not even Caridwen. And here you and Liusaidh are havin' dreams about Viking raids! And no one's been battin' an eye at any of it! It's pretty damn disgraceful, if you ask me!"

"Take a deep breath,  _ dheirfúir _ . You'll pass out," Brigid reminded her through a mouthful of elderberries.

"Brigid," Niamh started, eyes closed and eerily calm. "I'm this close to launchin' you off that cliff." Brigid backed up a pace, eyes widening for a moment.

— 

They came in the early hours of the morning. 

The two youngest, still plagued by their possibly prophetic dreams, awoke a while after the witching hour, and found their way to one another in the castle's dim hallways. It was Liusaidh's idea to take the horses out and ride to clear their minds; while Labhraín didn't agree at first, she eventually caved. The girls left without stirring a single person in the castle from their sleep. 

They were too far inland from the coast to see the ships landing on the shore or hear the hollers coming from aboard. 

The sun had only just begun to rise on the day that their futures would be altered forever.

— 

"This is the place, Ivar? You're sure?" Hvitserk asked. They were just moments away from reaching the shore. 

"Exact place? No, Hvitserk, I am not sure. I have never been to this place before, have you?" he snapped. "If it is not here, we will find it. But I know it is the right country."

"I can only hope, Hvitserk muttered. When the ships were beached and the castle was in sight, the rogue band of Vikings poured out onto the sand; and once Ivar's chariot was prepared, they headed toward the place where he prayed to the fates that his Liusaidh would be. 

— 

After the girls had calmed themselves during their walk in the forest, they returned to the open field to find their horses gone. "Maybe they got spooked by a snake," Labhraín tried. 

"There are no snakes in Inis, fool. Remember  _ Naomh Pádraig?" _

"Something else, then. A bear, maybe?" 

  
"I hope not." They shared a solemn look and took off back toward the castle. "I'm sure they went home, though."

"We should hurry back, then. In case anyone sees them without us and thinks we're in trouble."

Once the walk was purely downhill, the girls were shocked at the state of their castle home. There were ships surrounding the coast, the gates were destroyed, windows were smashed, almost everything outside, was turned over or broken, and — there were Vikings. Real life Vikings. Everywhere. They were frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything out of pure shock, until one Viking took note of them and pointed them out to the one who seemed to be the leader. He was riding a chariot pulled by a white horse, and was the only one not running around and wreaking havoc, so he must have been the one in charge. He took off uphill toward them and they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, their bodies working faster than their brains. 

—

Ivar called for his brother. "Hvitserk!" he yelled, "There are two of them. Maybe one is the girl from your dream!" It was obvious that Ivar was making fun of him, but his curiosity piqued and got the best of him; he followed his brother's chariot as fast as his legs would move towards the ones Ivar was chasing after. 

—

He was gaining on them and they were running out of options. They still had not reached the top of the hill, and the girls' legs were going weak on them. Labhraín tripped over a well-hidden rock, which put Liusaidh plenty of paces ahead of her. She almost stopped when she realized that her sister had fallen, but the chariot was getting too close. "Keep running, Liusaidh!" Labhraín called, and she obeyed her sister. She took off parallel to where she'd fallen, hoping to deter him from getting to her instead, and it seemed that her plan worked. The man in the chariot, wearing a heavy-duty metal helmet, took one look at Labhraín and went after the youngest instead. He was gaining on her faster and faster, and was getting closer and closer, until all Liusaidh could do was look straight ahead and pray to God he was farther away than he sounded.

Her prayers were not answered in the way that she was hoping. All of a sudden, the white horse and chariot were running up ahead of her and came to an abrupt halt, blocking her path. She was met face to face — well, face to helmeted face — with the man who had been pursuing her for so long. "Hello, Liusaidh. It is so nice to see you again."

_ That voice _ , she thought, _ it sounds so familiar. _

He took off his helmet. It was the Viking prince she had met all those years ago in Wessex — it was Ivar the Boneless. "You are so tired from running," he observed, and suddenly she was too aware of her panting breaths and heavy legs. She noted that he was speaking in English to her. "Why don't you come up here and sit down?" he offered. 

" _ Níl aon slí, _ " she spat at him, glaring daggers. " _ Bastaird Lochlannach _ ."

He smiled condescendingly. "Well. I do not know what you just said, but I can tell that it wasn't very nice. Am I correct?" She remained stone cold. "I don't want to hurt you, Liusaidh. But you need to come with me willingly, or we will have problems." Still, she refused to move. He entertained her defiance for a moment, but was fed up with it very quickly. "You know," he started, "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your other sisters back at the castle. My men are there now, making sure they don't do anything…  _ irrational _ . But if I were to give them permission… Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy to hear what would happen to them— "

"Stop," she interrupted him in English. "Don't… don't hurt my sisters. I'll go. Just leave my family alone."

"Very wise. Come on, then," he gestured to a small, bench-like seat next to him on the chariot. "It isn't very Christian to keep your guests waiting, is it?" Begrudgingly, she accepted his outstretched hand to pull her up into the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably next to him. He refused to let go of her hand, instead bringing it up to his mouth. "You know," he began, the horse heading back to the castle and the shoreline, "I have been very excited to see you again since we last met. Do you remember? In Wessex?"

"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. "I remember."

"That was the last time my father was alive. Did you know?" She shook her head. "King Ecbert pawned him off to be killed. My brothers and I began planning our revenge as soon as we heard. And we finally got it, all these years later."

"Why did you come  _ here? _ We had nothing to do with your father's death."

"Oh, I know." He released her hand and brought his own to smooth over her hair, like he was petting her. "I did not come here for revenge. I came for  _ you _ ."

She was speechless, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"You know, I never forgot about you," he told her, seemingly changing the subject. He smiled down at her. "I always knew that I would find you again one day." 

— 

While her sister took off in the other direction, Labhraín realized that the man on the chariot was not the only one chasing them. There was a man coming after her on foot, sword in hand, blood splattered on his face; she got an overwhelmingly unsettling feeling of  _ deja-vu _ . 

He seemed to feel it, too, because she could swear that she saw his eyes widen in realization when he saw her face. If it were at all possible, he began running toward her even faster. She stumbled over herself in a rapid attempt to stand back up and began running as fast as her legs would move her. She periodically looked back over her shoulder to take note of how close he was, and he was rapidly gaining on her. The hill still had yet to peak, and she was losing energy. 

She misjudged a crucial step and stumbled again, and her exhaustion caught up to her as the Viking did. (She realized now, what was so familiar to her — this was her dream. This was going to happen all along. She couldn't escape it.) She could hear him breathing heavily, getting closer and closer, footsteps pounding on the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, once he was within reach of her, and pulled her toward him.

He brought his sword to her back to keep her from trying to escape and brought his other hand to grab her face now. He said something to her in what she could only assume was Norse, a bone-chilling smile on his face. At her terrified and confused expression, he repeated himself in English. "It's you."

" _ Níl aithne agam ortsa. _ " She tried to shove him off of her and escape the pressing sword, but he held her tighter in response.

"Ah," he warned. "We've already defeated your people. It will be best for you to obey me. Come," he ordered, and she glared defiantly instead. He adopted an evil smirk and ran his thumb over her lips; she felt half tempted to bite, but decided not to. He then abruptly grabbed the back of her head and brought his sword to her neck, eliciting a small gasp, and maneuvered them both so that he was behind her, hand guiding the small of her back and sword still ready to slice. "You are a stealthy little thing, you know?" he mumered in her ear. "You have been showing up in my dreams at night for quite some time. I was beginning to think that I would not ever find you."

"What do you  _ want _ from us?"

"Oh, I don't care for anything your kingdom can give me. I only wanted  _ you _ . And now that I've gotten when I came here for, I will go back to England with my brothers, and we will take over York." 

"Alright," she tried to reason. "You've gotten me. You've gotten what you came here for. Then you must leave immediately and not harm my people."

"That's not my decision, pretty girl. You will just have to hope that your sister doesn't anger Ivar. He is in charge of all of this," he gestured to the scene before them. Hundreds of violent Viking warriors running amuck and causing panic in the streets of Tara. 

A thousand more questions ran around her head, but she took a deep breath — the sharp metal of Hvitserk's sword pressing into her throat — and remained silent, tilting her chin up just a hair. If she was going to die, she would die with all the dignity she could muster.

— 

They all four returned back to within the city walls not long after the two girls had been captured. It was evident that Hvitserk had not been lying when he said that Ivar was in charge of the army, because when he entered into the crowd of violent foreign invaders with Liusaidh at his side, they all fell silent and watched him closely, as if they were a pack of hunting dogs and he was their master returning with a fox. He stopped the chariot briefly, yelling something out to his warriors, and they all turned back the way they came and headed back to their longboats.

Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a panicked look when the two men who had seized them led them into the castle instead. " _ Dúirt sé go raibh grúpa fir ina ngiall _ ," Liusaidh informed her sister, refusing to speak English in front of the two men. 

" _ An gceapann tú go ndéanfaidh sé iad a mharú? _ "

" _ Níl — níl a fhios agam _ ," Liusaidh croaked, a heavy tear sliding down her cheek.

Ivar interrupted their conversation. "I hope you are not trying to plan an escape," he threatened, grabbing Liusaidh roughly by the hair and forcing her to look at him. 

"We're not!" she cried, scalp burning sharply. 

"Good," he responded, "Because it would not end well." He released his hold on her and lightly tapped her cheek. Ivar abandoned his horse and chariot and instead grabbed a pair of very heavy-duty metal crutches. He also grabbed two short spare ropes, throwing one to Hvitserk, and tied Liusaidh's wrists together, leaving enough on one side to pull her along with him like a very tragic leash. Hvitserk did the same to Labhraín's wrists, tying them so tightly that she gave a weak yelp when he tugged on them. He said nothing, nor did he make any attempts to loosen then, only smirking darkly. 

They entered into the castle, quickly finding where the Viking warriors were keeping the rest of the royal family hostage. They were in the girls' music room; Caridwen, Brigid, and Niamh were still in their simple white cotton nightgowns, same as Liusaidh and Lahbraín. Their father and brother were both wearing soft cotton trousers, one pair brown and the other a dark grey. Eoghan's tunic was a shade of white like his sisters' clothes, and King Aéd was wearing a deeply dyed red one. Their mother, also in her nightgown, had managed to also throw a deep green cloak over herself, dreading to be seen by such heathen invaders in her sleepwear. Ivar spoke to his men, surrounding the family with swords pointed and ready, in their native language, and the men backed away. "Your highness," he began, mock-bowing before King Aéd and still holding onto Liusaidh's rope. "We are very sorry to disturb your sleep. My most sincere apologies. But we got what we came for, as you can see." He lifted Liusaidh's hands with the rope, and Hvitserk did the same. The two girls looked pleading and sorrowful to their family, but understood that it would be much too risky for any of them to make any sudden movements. "So we will be on our way now. — And, don't try anything when we leave. I have made a promise to sweet Liusaidh here that I will not kill any of you, but if you try to hurt me or my brother... my hand may slip," he threatened. He then barked an order to his men to leave the castle and head back to the longboats, and he and Hvitserk turned and headed back the way they came, leaving the mac Neílls to their own devices in their ransacked castle. They stayed put, too afraid to move a finger (for Liusaidh and Labhraín's own safety, they could hardly claim to understand the thought process of these heathens), as the girls were dragged back outside. 

The four of them exited the castle doors and, when Hvitserk shut and barred them, one of Ivar's personal guards presented him with a lit torch. "What are you doing?" yelled a panicked Labhraín, both at Hvitserk and Ivar — whoever would listen. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!" 

"I said  _ we _ wouldn't hurt them. If they can't escape the fire, well… that's not our fault. Hvitserk! Set it."

— 

Liusaidh and Labhraín were dragged away by a handful of Vikings, becoming too fidgety for just one person to keep a grip on them. Thrown onto Ivar and Hvitserk's boat — the biggest one of the fleet — they could do nothing but watch their castle home go up in smoke as they sailed away from the shore and due east. 

Neither of them had the will or the energy to protest as their ankles were bound and another rope was tied to connect their wrists to their feet. Ivar hobbled on his crutches to take a seat at the edge of the boat next to Liusaidh. His gloved and rough hand ame up to stroke the side of her face and brush through her hair. "You will forget about them one day. And you will learn to be happy with me," he promised, but the promise to her sounded more like a threat.

—

At the back of the boat, Hvitserk had seated himself next to Lahbraín. He brought her a spare blanket, placing it around her shoulders as she couldn't do it herself. He placed his palm on her cheek and brushed a tear away. "I am not a bad man like you think," he told her in a low whisper. "You will understand that eventually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- dhearfúir: brother  
> \- naomh pádrag: st. patrick  
> \- níl aon slí: there's no way  
> \- bastaird lochlannach: viking bastard  
> \- níl aithne agam ortsa: i don't know you  
> \- dúirt sé go raibh grúpa fir ina ngiall: he said that there was a group of men holding them hostage  
> \- an gceapann tú go ndéanfaigh sé iad a mharú: do you think he'll kill them?  
> \- níl a fhios agam: i don't know  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this semester is almost over + i'm going home next week! feeling very inspired so i will try to write more :-)

If the bond between the sons of Ragnar hadn't already been split after avenging their father, then they certainly were the moment that Ivar picked up his axe and launched it into Sigurd's chest. But when Ivar offered that his brothers remaining were welcome to join him on his journey to continue conquering more land and searching for the princess he had met not long before, something stirred in Hvitserk's heart. He was willing to look past the atrocity that Ivar had committed, if only for a while, if it meant that the dream he had been having could finally be answered. 

When the youngest Ragnarson happened upon Floki and Helga planning to leave with their stolen child from Andalusia, he was half surprised that he was able to convince them to stay around for him. He was honestly devastated by the fact that he'd murdered his own brother, and Floki knew this better than anyone: one look at Ivar begging them to stay with him was all that he needed to know that Ivar would crumble without the one person who'd always been there for him. "My heart is broken," he whispered, voice hoarse from sobbing. 

Floki hugged him tightly. "It will repair," he promised. "Think of your Liusaidh. Ivar the Boneless, scourge of the world. You will survive this."

— 

"The Saxons are in disarray. This is a good opportunity. We have the resources to make a permanent settlement," Ubbe reasoned. 

"D'you agree, Ivar?" Hvitserk silently hoped that he wouldn't, but his tone remained impartial.

"I don't want to disband the army. In fact, I want to continue the war against the Saxons while we are still in a position of strength! My suggestion is that we go back north, to where we defeated Ælle. We should establish a permanent camp, as you say," he gestured to Ubbe, "But near the coast. From where we can raid wherever we want."

"Our father's dream," Ubbe argued, using a half eaten chicken leg to punctuate his point, "Was that we wouldn't be just raiders. That we would behave in a different way."   
"You're not listening, Ubbe. We- we have to have a stronghold. If we go north, we are closer to our own lands, and shipping routes… we can build an impregnable fortress."   
"Where?" Hvitserk goaded. 

"I've heard of a town. Called York." His brothers, clearly interested, stopped eating for a moment to listen. "It is built on a major river and it is not far from the sea. And I think that… we should take it."

Ubbe dissented. "No. It would seem like a withdrawal."

"Yes. Yes, it would," Ivar concurred, "But it is only tactical. Surely you understand, Ubbe, if we establish ourselves in the middle of the country, then we are surrounded by enemies! In York, we are near our home. Right, Hvitserk?"   
Hvitserk glanced at Ubbe, hopeful. "I agree with Ivar. We should go north, and take York."

"That's good," Ubbe said, fake cheerfully, and left the tent. Hvitserk and Ivar shared a look. 

"What about your Princess in Inis, Ivar?" Hvitserk prompted. "York is not near that other coast."

"No," he admitted, "But that is why we are going to Inis first, and then taking York."

"What do you mean?" he promptly spat back. "You just said— "

"I know what I said to Ubbe. But, brother, we are going to raid the other kingdom first, take what I am seeking, and then return to York. And…" he paused for a brief moment. "I am sure there is something you would like from Inish as well. The princess has plenty of sisters," he suggested. 

Hvitserk wouldn't show it, but the thought of that excited him. He wondered if the girl that kept appearing in his dreams could possibly be one of the sisters Ivar mentioned. 

— 

"They're coming." Liusaidh woke up early in the morning, gasping for air like she hadn't breathed in hours. She had burrowed into Caridwen's side in the middle of the night during a particularly loud thunderstorm. The mac Neíll children all loved the rain, of course, but it was somewhat of a ritual for them to all gather in Caridwen's room when there was a midnight storm.

Niamh, on the other side of Caridwen and not moving a single inch, called out muffled by the covers, "What are you on about, Lius?"

"Vikings. They're coming. I— I had a dream about it. They're in England and they're coming to Inis."

"Don't be ridiculous," Brigid called from the other end of Caridwen's bed. "Vikings don't want to come here."   
"I'm not kidding, both of you! It was like a vision; like I could see it happening in real life, but sped up very fast."   
Labhraín was only half awake at that moment, but understood perfectly what Liusaidh was describing. "She's right," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I'm having a dream like it."

Caridwen, now fully awake and aware, sat up and got out of bed, walking over to her nightstand and pouring a jug of water into a bowl to wash her face. "Well then," she mumbled, "I suppose we should tell someone?" Brigid nodded.

"We should tell Morrigan, she knows  _ all about _ these things."

"What do I know all about, you wee rascals?" Morrigan asked, entering into Caridwen's room to prepare them for the day. 

"Liusaidh and Labhraín have been havin' the same dream about the same wee Vikings comin' to the island," Brigid told her. Morrigan nodded.

"Well then, wains, I'd say we'd better figure out what it all means then, wouldn't you?"

— 

The princesses all trailed alongside or behind Morrigan as she led them to the drawing room in their section of the castle where they would all have their lessons— though, for today, instead of learning embroidery or music or writing, they'd be learning how to interpret the youngest mac Neílls most recent dreams. As the five young ladies took seats all around the room, Morrigan instructed Liusaidh and Labhraín to sit in front of her and relay their dreams in as much detail as they could recall.

Liusaidh went first, informing them about how she saw their beloved home, billowing in smoke, being plundered and pillaged by Viking raiders; how she saw her sisters all being pulled away from one another, while one group fled to safety and the other was lead to the Viking ships; how she could clearly see the face of the Viking boy that they had met in England not so long ago, and how he was the one dragging her away from her destroyed home. 

Labhraín, still mildly bothered by Liusaidh's own dream, was then instructed to share her own. It had been recurring for several nights, and always the same: the same bloodied Viking man charging at her, always running away, but never fast enough, and being captured and dragged away to their heathen ships. Morrigan nodded understandingly upon hearing both dreams while the other three sisters waited with bated breath to hear her conclusion. "Well, lasses, it seems we have some mystics on our hands. Those are purely prophetic dreams if I've ever heard 'em— and I have, best you believe. What we're to do now is tell your Ma and Da all about what you've been seein', and let them decide how to deal with it."

— 

As it turned out, the girls' parents decision on how to deal with it was to simply not deal with it at all. Despite all Morrigan's attempts to convince the king and queen that their daughters' dreams were truly seeing the future, and that they had much to fear, they couldn't be made to believe it. 

"Girls," their father began, "I know that you believe that your dreams are tellin' the future. But I can promise you, with all I know, that it's simply not gonna happen! Your dreams are just the results of having too active imaginations, and from bein' at each other's sides all the live-long day. Lord above, you'd think the two wains were more twins than the  _ actual _ twins," their father muttered to their mother, who simply nodded in response. "Now go to your studies please, all of you. Thank you for letting us know about your concerns, lasses, but there's nothing to worry about."

— 

The next morning, Ivar and Hvitserk took off with a small band of men — enough to do damage, but not enough to make the rest of their great army less powerful— and headed off toward the opposite coast to sail to Inis. They'd informed Ubbe at the last minute, telling him of their plans to capture the kingdom and steal away a princess or two, and he was less than pleased with the idea. "You can't just raid an entire country on a whim, Ivar," he'd scolded, "These things have to be planned. What if you don't take enough men and get everyone killed, huh? This is a horrible idea. And what if the Saxons push us out while you are one?"

"The Saxons could not push us out no matter how hard they try; even if I take some men away for now. We are still stronger than them in every possible way, Ubbe. Have faith, brother! We have a plan. We know their kingdom does not have a very strong army. It will be an easy raid. Like when father sacked the monastery at Lindisfarne so long ago. There is nothing to worry about; and we will be back before you can even miss me," he smirked smugly, patting his oldest brother's cheek. 

And so, despite his protests, Ivar and Hvitserk headed west to Inis, to capture the kingdom of Tara and, perhaps, even some princesses.

— 

Within a week of Liusaidh and Labhraín's dreams first recurring, there had been news that Caridwen's betrothed, Alfred, was deathly ill, that the kingdom of Wessex had been taken over by Vikings, and that a band of "rogue" Vikings were heading west. Caridwen, who hadn't seen Alfred in close to three years, was devastated. There was no news that he had died (yet), but his mother Judith claimed that he wasn't showing signs of recovering any time soon. The two young royals had exchanged letters back and forth rather regularly after they'd first met one another all those years ago, and she was distraught that he was so ill and so far from home. 

Her mother and father were concerned as well; not only for Alfred's health, but also for their daughter's future. "If Alfred doesn't survive, who will be left for her? His  _ brother? _ Christ in heaven, Danu, it's not that I  _ want _ to send the girl away, but we need this alliance."

"All we can do for now is pray, Aéd. We can't start makin' arrangements for the wain before anything even happens. Have faith that he'll be alright. If only for Caridwen."

Eoghan and his younger sisters, minus the eldest, were more concerned about the whispers of rogue Vikings and that they were coming west. Out in the forest once again, climbing trees and picking berries, they discussed their theories.

"Labhraín and I  _ told _ you all that Vikings were coming. We had dreams and everything, but you didn't believe us."

"You don't even know that they're coming here, Liusiadh," Niamh called up to her sister, sitting on a tree branch and whittling a twig she'd found. "Y'have one dream and all of a sudden think you're a mystic; sweet Jesus."

"Niamh! You watch your words talkin' about the Lord!" Eoghan chastised her. The two of them were sitting below the trees on a quilt that they'd brought from the castle.

"Aye, Niamh, you shouldn't swear," Brigid called from beyond the bushes, picking berries. "Because when you swear, our Lady in Heaven, she cries her tears; and then make rain." She appeared in the clearing with the rest of her siblings. "Isn't that right, Eoghan?"

He stared at her for a moment, baffled, before slowly nodding. "Aye… so it is, Brigid. So it is." Brigid, pleased with his assurance, nodded once and smiled before hopping back off to pick more fruits. 

"I think you're all dense as rocks for not believin' our dreams," Labhraín called. She was sitting on a tree branch opposite Liusaidh, weaving together flowers that she'd picked on their way to the forest. "Even Morrigan said so."

"Eoghan?" Liusaidh called to her brother. "How long d'you suppose it would take some Vikings to reach our coast from Wessex?" Physically, she was trying her hardest not to appear bothered; but the shaking of her voice betrayed the steadiness of her face.

"Week, week and a half maybe, Lius," he told her honestly. Eoghan was never the type to lie to someone for their own comfort. "But there's no way to know for sure whether or not these Vikings are even trying to come to Inis."

"Aye, not until they show up right on the coastline," Brigid deadpanned. "'Course, by then, it's too late. Y'know, because we're already trapped."

"Christ, Brigid! D'you have any damn empathy for your sister at all?" Niamh yelled. Eoghan, peeved with her profanity, launched an elderberry at her forehead. "Catch yerself on, Eoghan," she shot at him. 

"What's your problem lately, Niamh?" Labhraín asked.    
"Just gets me angry that you're all actin' as if there isn't something wrong when there clearly is." After a beat of silence, she continued. "Our oldest sister's bein' married off to a wain she met one time; and if that wain dies 'cause he's sick, then Da will make her marry his older brother, who might as well be an old man. And no one seems to care except me, not even Caridwen. And here you and Liusaidh are havin' dreams about Viking raids! And no one's been battin' an eye at any of it! It's pretty damn disgraceful, if you ask me!"

"Take a deep breath,  _ dheirfúir _ . You'll pass out," Brigid reminded her through a mouthful of elderberries.

"Brigid," Niamh started, eyes closed and eerily calm. "I'm this close to launchin' you off that cliff." Brigid backed up a pace, eyes widening for a moment.

— 

They came in the early hours of the morning. 

The two youngest, still plagued by their possibly prophetic dreams, awoke a while after the witching hour, and found their way to one another in the castle's dim hallways. It was Liusaidh's idea to take the horses out and ride to clear their minds; while Labhraín didn't agree at first, she eventually caved. The girls left without stirring a single person in the castle from their sleep. 

They were too far inland from the coast to see the ships landing on the shore or hear the hollers coming from aboard. 

The sun had only just begun to rise on the day that their futures would be altered forever.

— 

"This is the place, Ivar? You're sure?" Hvitserk asked. They were just moments away from reaching the shore. 

"Exact place? No, Hvitserk, I am not sure. I have never been to this place before, have you?" he snapped. "If it is not here, we will find it. But I know it is the right country."

"I can only hope, Hvitserk muttered. When the ships were beached and the castle was in sight, the rogue band of Vikings poured out onto the sand; and once Ivar's chariot was prepared, they headed toward the place where he prayed to the fates that his Liusaidh would be. 

— 

After the girls had calmed themselves during their walk in the forest, they returned to the open field to find their horses gone. "Maybe they got spooked by a snake," Labhraín tried. 

"There are no snakes in Inis, fool. Remember  _ Naomh Pádraig?" _

"Something else, then. A bear, maybe?"    
"I hope not." They shared a solemn look and took off back toward the castle. "I'm sure they went home, though."

"We should hurry back, then. In case anyone sees them without us and thinks we're in trouble."

Once the walk was purely downhill, the girls were shocked at the state of their castle home. There were ships surrounding the coast, the gates were destroyed, windows were smashed, almost everything outside, was turned over or broken, and — there were Vikings. Real life Vikings. Everywhere. They were frozen on the spot, unable to say or do anything out of pure shock, until one Viking took note of them and pointed them out to the one who seemed to be the leader. He was riding a chariot pulled by a white horse, and was the only one not running around and wreaking havoc, so he must have been the one in charge. He took off uphill toward them and they ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction, their bodies working faster than their brains. 

—

Ivar called for his brother. "Hvitserk!" he yelled, "There are two of them. Maybe one is the girl from your dream!" It was obvious that Ivar was making fun of him, but his curiosity piqued and got the best of him; he followed his brother's chariot as fast as his legs would move towards the ones Ivar was chasing after. 

—

He was gaining on them and they were running out of options. They still had not reached the top of the hill, and the girls' legs were going weak on them. Labhraín tripped over a well-hidden rock, which put Liusaidh plenty of paces ahead of her. She almost stopped when she realized that her sister had fallen, but the chariot was getting too close. "Keep running, Liusaidh!" Labhraín called, and she obeyed her sister. She took off parallel to where she'd fallen, hoping to deter him from getting to her instead, and it seemed that her plan worked. The man in the chariot, wearing a heavy-duty metal helmet, took one look at Labhraín and went after the youngest instead. He was gaining on her faster and faster, and was getting closer and closer, until all Liusaidh could do was look straight ahead and pray to God he was farther away than he sounded.

Her prayers were not answered in the way that she was hoping. All of a sudden, the white horse and chariot were running up ahead of her and came to an abrupt halt, blocking her path. She was met face to face — well, face to helmeted face — with the man who had been pursuing her for so long. "Hello, Liusaidh. It is so nice to see you again."

_ That voice _ , she thought, _ it sounds so familiar. _

He took off his helmet. It was the Viking prince she had met all those years ago in Wessex — it was Ivar the Boneless. "You are so tired from running," he observed, and suddenly she was too aware of her panting breaths and heavy legs. She noted that he was speaking in English to her. "Why don't you come up here and sit down?" he offered. 

" _ Níl aon slí, _ " she spat at him, glaring daggers. " _ Bastaird Lochlannach _ ."

He smiled condescendingly. "Well. I do not know what you just said, but I can tell that it wasn't very nice. Am I correct?" She remained stone cold. "I don't want to hurt you, Liusaidh. But you need to come with me willingly, or we will have problems." Still, she refused to move. He entertained her defiance for a moment, but was fed up with it very quickly. "You know," he started, "It would be such a shame if anything happened to your other sisters back at the castle. My men are there now, making sure they don't do anything…  _ irrational _ . But if I were to give them permission… Well, I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy to hear what would happen to them— "

"Stop," she interrupted him in English. "Don't… don't hurt my sisters. I'll go. Just leave my family alone."

"Very wise. Come on, then," he gestured to a small, bench-like seat next to him on the chariot. "It isn't very Christian to keep your guests waiting, is it?" Begrudgingly, she accepted his outstretched hand to pull her up into the chariot, and sat down uncomfortably next to him. He refused to let go of her hand, instead bringing it up to his mouth. "You know," he began, the horse heading back to the castle and the shoreline, "I have been very excited to see you again since we last met. Do you remember? In Wessex?"

"Yes," she hoarsely whispered. "I remember."

"That was the last time my father was alive. Did you know?" She shook her head. "King Ecbert pawned him off to be killed. My brothers and I began planning our revenge as soon as we heard. And we finally got it, all these years later."

"Why did you come  _ here? _ We had nothing to do with your father's death."

"Oh, I know." He released her hand and brought his own to smooth over her hair, like he was petting her. "I did not come here for revenge. I came for  _ you _ ."

She was speechless, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"You know, I never forgot about you," he told her, seemingly changing the subject. He smiled down at her. "I always knew that I would find you again one day." 

— 

While her sister took off in the other direction, Labhraín realized that the man on the chariot was not the only one chasing them. There was a man coming after her on foot, sword in hand, blood splattered on his face; she got an overwhelmingly unsettling feeling of  _ deja-vu _ . 

He seemed to feel it, too, because she could swear that she saw his eyes widen in realization when he saw her face. If it were at all possible, he began running toward her even faster. She stumbled over herself in a rapid attempt to stand back up and began running as fast as her legs would move her. She periodically looked back over her shoulder to take note of how close he was, and he was rapidly gaining on her. The hill still had yet to peak, and she was losing energy. 

She misjudged a crucial step and stumbled again, and her exhaustion caught up to her as the Viking did. (She realized now, what was so familiar to her — this was her dream. This was going to happen all along. She couldn't escape it.) She could hear him breathing heavily, getting closer and closer, footsteps pounding on the ground. He grabbed her arm roughly, once he was within reach of her, and pulled her toward him.

He brought his sword to her back to keep her from trying to escape and brought his other hand to grab her face now. He said something to her in what she could only assume was Norse, a bone-chilling smile on his face. At her terrified and confused expression, he repeated himself in English. "It's you."

" _ Níl aithne agam ortsa. _ " She tried to shove him off of her and escape the pressing sword, but he held her tighter in response.

"Ah," he warned. "We've already defeated your people. It will be best for you to obey me. Come," he ordered, and she glared defiantly instead. He adopted an evil smirk and ran his thumb over her lips; she felt half tempted to bite, but decided not to. He then abruptly grabbed the back of her head and brought his sword to her neck, eliciting a small gasp, and maneuvered them both so that he was behind her, hand guiding the small of her back and sword still ready to slice. "You are a stealthy little thing, you know?" he mumered in her ear. "You have been showing up in my dreams at night for quite some time. I was beginning to think that I would not ever find you."

"What do you  _ want _ from us?"

"Oh, I don't care for anything your kingdom can give me. I only wanted  _ you _ . And now that I've gotten when I came here for, I will go back to England with my brothers, and we will take over York." 

"Alright," she tried to reason. "You've gotten me. You've gotten what you came here for. Then you must leave immediately and not harm my people."

"That's not my decision, pretty girl. You will just have to hope that your sister doesn't anger Ivar. He is in charge of all of this," he gestured to the scene before them. Hundreds of violent Viking warriors running amuck and causing panic in the streets of Tara. 

A thousand more questions ran around her head, but she took a deep breath — the sharp metal of Hvitserk's sword pressing into her throat — and remained silent, tilting her chin up just a hair. If she was going to die, she would die with all the dignity she could muster.

— 

They all four returned back to within the city walls not long after the two girls had been captured. It was evident that Hvitserk had not been lying when he said that Ivar was in charge of the army, because when he entered into the crowd of violent foreign invaders with Liusaidh at his side, they all fell silent and watched him closely, as if they were a pack of hunting dogs and he was their master returning with a fox. He stopped the chariot briefly, yelling something out to his warriors, and they all turned back the way they came and headed back to their longboats.

Liusaidh and Labhraín shared a panicked look when the two men who had seized them led them into the castle instead. " _ Dúirt sé go raibh grúpa saighdiúirí aiga a raibh giall acu orthu _ ," Liusaidh informed her sister, refusing to speak English in front of the two men. 

" _ An gceapann tú go ndéanfaidh sé iad a mharú? _ "

" _ Níl — níl a fhios agam _ ," Liusaidh croaked, a heavy tear sliding down her cheek.

Ivar interrupted their conversation. "I hope you are not trying to plan an escape," he threatened, grabbing Liusaidh roughly by the hair and forcing her to look at him. 

"We're not!" she cried, scalp burning sharply. 

"Good," he responded, "Because it would not end well." He released his hold on her and lightly tapped her cheek. Ivar abandoned his horse and chariot and instead grabbed a pair of very heavy-duty metal crutches. He also grabbed two short spare ropes, throwing one to Hvitserk, and tied Liusaidh's wrists together, leaving enough on one side to pull her along with him like a very tragic leash. Hvitserk did the same to Labhraín's wrists, tying them so tightly that she gave a weak yelp when he tugged on them. He said nothing, nor did he make any attempts to loosen then, only smirking darkly. 

They entered into the castle, quickly finding where the Viking warriors were keeping the rest of the royal family hostage. They were in the girls' music room; Caridwen, Brigid, and Niamh were still in their simple white cotton nightgowns, same as Liusaidh and Lahbraín. Their father and brother were both wearing soft cotton trousers, one pair brown and the other a dark grey. Eoghan's tunic was a shade of white like his sisters' clothes, and King Aéd was wearing a deeply dyed red one. Their mother, also in her nightgown, had managed to also throw a deep green cloak over herself, dreading to be seen by such heathen invaders in her sleepwear. Ivar spoke to his men, surrounding the family with swords pointed and ready, in their native language, and the men backed away. "Your highness," he began, mock-bowing before King Aéd and still holding onto Liusaidh's rope. "We are very sorry to disturb your sleep. My most sincere apologies. But we got what we came for, as you can see." He lifted Liusaidh's hands with the rope, and Hvitserk did the same. The two girls looked pleading and sorrowful to their family, but understood that it would be much too risky for any of them to make any sudden movements. "So we will be on our way now. — And, don't try anything when we leave. I have made a promise to sweet Liusaidh here that I will not kill any of you, but if you try to hurt me or my brother... my hand may slip," he threatened. He then barked an order to his men to leave the castle and head back to the longboats, and he and Hvitserk turned and headed back the way they came, leaving the mac Neílls to their own devices in their ransacked castle. They stayed put, too afraid to move a finger (for Liusaidh and Labhraín's own safety, they could hardly claim to understand the thought process of these heathens), as the girls were dragged back outside. 

The four of them exited the castle doors and, when Hvitserk shut and barred them, one of Ivar's personal guards presented him with a lit torch. "What are you doing?" yelled a panicked Labhraín, both at Hvitserk and Ivar — whoever would listen. "You said you wouldn't hurt them!" 

"I said  _ we _ wouldn't hurt them. If they can't escape the fire, well… that's not our fault. Hvitserk! Set it."

— 

Liusaidh and Labhraín were dragged away by a handful of Vikings, becoming too fidgety for just one person to keep a grip on them. Thrown onto Ivar and Hvitserk's boat — the biggest one of the fleet — they could do nothing but watch their castle home go up in smoke as they sailed away from the shore and due east. 

Neither of them had the will or the energy to protest as their ankles were bound and another rope was tied to connect their wrists to their feet. Ivar hobbled on his crutches to take a seat at the edge of the boat next to Liusaidh. His gloved and rough hand ame up to stroke the side of her face and brush through her hair. "You will forget about them one day. And you will learn to be happy with me," he promised, but the promise to her sounded more like a threat.

"You  _ destroyed _ my home," she whispered hoarsely. "I will  _ never _ forget that. And I will  _ never _ forgive you for it."

—

At the back of the boat, Hvitserk had seated himself next to Lahbraín. He brought her a spare blanket, placing it around her shoulders as she couldn't do it herself. He placed his palm on her cheek and brushed a tear away. "I am not a bad man like you think," he told her in a low whisper. "You will understand that eventually." She flinched away from his touch and scrunched up her nose from the smell of the blood that was caking his face. "Hey," he tried to get her to look his way, but she refused. 

"You are making me nauseous." 

"What, is it the blood? Sten! Get me some water to wash my face," he called to a man not sitting far from him. 

"D'you see that?" she mumbled, staring out at the slowly diminishing island, and the plume of smoke billowing up from where her castle stood. "That's my home. That's my family. My  _ people _ . The country of Inis will not take this lightly. You have abducted the daughters of the  _ High King _ of Tara; we  _ will _ go to war with your kind. My sister and I  _ will _ be rescued, and you  _ will _ face the consequences of daring to ever step foot on our island." 

Hvitserk, who had received his bowl of water in the midst of her speech and who was working on getting all of the blood and grime off of his face, chuckled. "Is that a  _ threat _ , little miss?"

"It's a  _ promise _ ,  _ heathen _ ." 

"Oh, come now, princess," he cooed, mockingly placing his chest over his heart in pain. "What can your  _ Christian _ army do to  _ us _ ? More than the Saxons, I certainly hope."

"We are not the Christians of Angland. We are  _ Celts _ , and descendents of a great warrior race. You may mock us now, but one day very soon you will regret  _ everything _ you've done."

"Keep telling yourself that, princess," he scoffed.

— 

Late at night, when the sky was pitch black and so clouded that hardly any stars could be seen, Liusaidh and Labhraín were curled up together against the side of the boat near the back. They had been granted one other blanket and were still bound at their hands and feet. Liusaidh looked up at her sister, who was holding their hands together to keep warm. She whispered quietly to her in their native tongue. "Sing me a song?" she pleaded with doe eyes. 

"Surely, wee sprite." And she began to sing a hymn that they had been taught years before. " _ When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, 'It is well, it is well with my soul'  _ ," she sang softly. Ivar, who had not been sleeping very heavily to begin with, was drawn to her sweet voice and sat upright, trying to get a better listen without pulling himself any closer. " _ Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control: That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul. For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live: if Jordan above me shall roll, no pang shall be mine, for in death as in life, Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul. _ "

Liusaidh chimed in with her own addition to the hymn. " _ It is well with my soul; It is well with my soul. It is well, it is well with my soul."  _

"You have such a wonderful wee voice, sweet Liusadh. Don't ever lose it."

She fell silent for a bit. "What's going to happen to us, Labhraín? We have to get away from them somehow; we have to escape and get home. Or get to Wessex, where Alfred is! And then, when he and Caridwen are married, we can fight the great bastards that— " Labhraín slapped her wrist. "Ouch!"

"Watch your language, devil, or Our Lady'll cry. You heard what Brigid said." Liusaidh gave a small smile as they reminisced on the odd things their equally odd sister had said over the years. Liusaidh's small smile was quickly replaced by tearful eyes and an anxious expression.

"D'you think... d'you think they— " She was cut off.

"I know they're alright. I can feel it in my heart. Can't you?" Liusaidh considered for a moment and nodded. "Tell you what," Labhraín began, "When we make landfall, we'll ask the fair folk to send them a message from us."

"I love it when we talk to the fae," her little sister admitted, smiling wistfully. 

"And the fae love talking to you, wee Liusaidh. That's why none of the forest animals are scared of you." A tall figure, previously hidden from their sight in the darkness, suddenly crouched before the two and grabbed Labhraín from her sister, pulling her to her feet. The two girls nearly leapt out of their skin in shock, and Labhraín quickly came to understand that the man who had grabbed her was Hvitserk. 

"Come," he commanded in English; his voice was soft but his tone was firm. "You are being too loud."

"I'm sorry," she pleaded, "We'll be quiet— "

"No." He continued to move her away from her sister and to the side of the ship where he had been resting. "Just sleep." He got in a comfortable enough position against the side, propping himself up halfway and pulling Labhraín down next to him. She still had the blanket that he had given her covering her back, and he maneuvered it so that it covered him as well. Much to her chagrin, she was halfway on his torso, and his arm came around her shoulders to prevent her from moving. As her wrists were still bound together, they both rested under her chin and on his body. His other free hand came up to force her head to his chest and then to run his fingers over her hair. Hvitserk looked down at her for a split second and, without thinking twice, gently kissed her temple. "Sleep now, sweet girl," he told her. Not wanting to face the consequences, especially not when she was so exhausted, she obeyed. 

— 

"No, wait!" Liusaidh weakly protested in English as her big sister was pulled from her. Ivar, who had been silently observing until then, sat upright and scooted himself closer to her, grabbing her hands.

"She will be fine. Go back to sleep." When she did not signal that she had heard him or was planning on doing what he asked, he pulled the blanket around her tighter and put one arm around her waist and the other still holding her hands. 

"Get off of me," she mumbled. 

"No," he shot back. "You will freeze."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do. Now shut up and go back to sleep." With that, he shut his own eyes and placed his chin atop her own head. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're wondering!  
> eoghan mac neíll = evan peters  
> caridwen mac neíll = drew barrymore (think ever after)  
> niamh mac neíll = elle fanning  
> brigid mac neíll = dakota fanning  
> labhraín mac neíll = birdy  
> young liusaidh = sarah bolger  
> liusaidh mac neíll = danielle campbell


End file.
